


Misery Doesn't Love Company

by ScarletteFox718



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Kismesis, beginnings of kismesitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteFox718/pseuds/ScarletteFox718
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi just wants to mourn the loss of her Scourge sister in peace. But one crazy clown has another idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Doesn't Love Company

I killed her. I actually killed my Scourge sister. My, should I even classify us as this?, moirail. How could I have killed her? What the hell was going through my mind?  
  
Right.  
  
She was going to give us away to Jack if I’d let her go. And then we’d all be dead, and the timeline would be dead. I couldn’t have that happen. So I rammed my canesword right through her heart. I can still feel her blood on my gloves. My heart starts racing as my breathing picks up. I’m dangerously close to losing it, all alone on this godsforsaken meteor.  
  
“What is up, my motherfuckin’ Sis?” No. No, no, no, no. Why is he here? His is the LAST person I want to see. Other than his moirail. And the cool-kid. Ok, so I don’t really want to see anyone at the moment. I wanted to grieve in peace. Not to mention I can’t actually see them anyway, what with being blind and all because of the very Scourge sister I killed not even an hour ago.  
  
“Sis?”  
  
“Leave, Makara.” The words come out harshly, just like my judgement of him.  
  
“Aw come on. Can’t a brother just all up and get his chill on around a sister?” God he pisses me off, smelling like Nepeta and Equius still.  
  
“No. Now go away,” I say with my anger steadily rising.  
  
“So you can sulk?” Fuck him, honestly. How would he even know what that’s like. I bet he’s never sulked in his entire, hateful existence.  
  
“What the hell do you know about sulking anyway?” I question, not wanting to deal with this right now. I just want to sulk and grieve and let my emotions get the best of me for once in my pathetic life.  
  
“I know you regret killing Vris-sis, and that’s why you’re sulking now.” With that one statement, he is now treading even more on thin frozen water. I whip around to face where the voice is coming from, still in my FLARP outfit stained with Vriska’s blood.  
  
“You shut your mouth, Makara. You don’t know the first thing about regret, you insane, fucking clown. Whatever Karkat sees in you as a palemate must be buried deep because you are infuriating,” I admit to the taller troll with a sopor addiction.  
  
“No need to up and insult a motherfucker.” Hearing the grating smile in the voice as gruff as my own makes me growl more, claws digging into my clenched fists. I am barely managing to suppress my rage.  
  
“I’ll say it one more time, Gamzee. Leave. Me. Alone,” I manage to get out, trying not to take a nose-dive off the fucking handle.  
  
“But doesn’t misery love company? I’m fucking miserable, too, my blind sister. Karbro’s all up and mad at me, and Kansis is trying to kill me. HONK,” he adds at the end as he does every so often. I hate it. I hate everything about this fucker. From his stupid drawl to his awful drinks and right down to his loathsome, grape-smelling blood color. He disgusts me so much. I finally snap at him talking about Kanaya wanting to kill him.  
  
“I’M SURE IT’D BE JUSTIFIED AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO TWO OF OUR FRIENDS! Just like killing Vriska was justified. She would have outed us to Jack, and then we all would have died,” I explain, her death hitting me like a moving vehicle. Before I get too far in my reverie, I hear feet shuffling closer to me, the faint squeaking of his sneakers and the strong scent of blood moving in and growing stronger.  
  
“That’s a lot of rage, Ter-sis. You gotta let all that shit out so you can be chill.” He places a hand on my shoulder as he speaks. I slap it away harshly.  
  
“I’m FINE.” I’m not. For once, the damn clown is right, but I don’t want him to know that. All I wanted was to mourn my sister in peace. Is that too much to ask? I can smell her berry flavored blood all over my hands and on my sword. I can smell the betrayal still. It envelops me as I start to succumb to the grief. I’m pulled from it rapidly by Gamzee.  
  
“You’re not. Let a brother help. Let me get you to release that rage.” The way his voice sounds is… enchantin--NO! Snap out of it, Terezi! It’s the voodoos. I grip my cane tighter, staring straight ahead. “Take it out on me. Strife with me,” he continues as I remain quiet. Don’t listen! You are Mind, Pyrope! Don’t let Rage get the best of you! You can’t let that happen. You can’t…  
  
“Go. Away.” I warn him one last time to leave. He’s trying to rile me up. My best bet is to not give in.  
  
“You don’t want me to.” With a cry, my anger was on as I unsheathe my sword and jab at him. I feel it blocked as the olive and blueberry scents of my two friend overwhelms me. The jackass is using his goddamned clubs! That bastard! I dislodge my sword and swing again. He parries. Again. Again. Again. Time seems limitless. We fight for what seems like only a few minutes but has probably been hours.  
  
I trip.  
  
He wins.  
  
“Honk.” I feel the club hit my arm. “HONK,” my side. “Honk.” His claws sink into my stomach.  
  
I toss my weapon to the side, resorting to using my claws as well, a snarl on my lips. I clip him in the shoulder. He grabs my horn and twists, my head turns with it. The pain is _excruciating_.  
  
“FUCKER! I’LL HANG YOU!” I shout in pain. He picks me up by my neck one-handed, squeezing. I feel myself losing breath as he does. He then slams me against a wall as I try to gasp in pain, struggling to breathe and get out of his grip.  
  
“You can’t hang me, Legislacterator. I AM HIGHER THAN YOU!” he bellows, making my ears ring as he cuts off more air. I choke, feet kicking. My claws slice up and down his arms.  
  
Next thing I know, he’s kissing me. The fucker tastes just like grape Faygo, which makes me gag at the flavor. So, I bite his lips, and he bites mine in return. Finally, I can breathe as he drops me, my ass hitting the ground harshly, sending pain up my spine.  
  
“Don’t you motherfuckin’ feel better, Sis?” he asks with a smirk in his voice. I frown because I do. I feel better. Getting that out of my system helps tremendously. I cough, however, as I regain my breath and nod. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, Black Sis,” he says with confidence. With that, he turns away and leaves through one of the grates. I’m finally alone again.  
  
I sigh.  
  
Then, I start crying. Before I completely break down, I shout out, “If you can hear me, Rage may enjoy company. BUT MISERY DOESN’T!!!” There are tears streaming down my face as I finally let the grief of a sister lost hit me in powerful waves. No, Gamzee. You are wrong.  
  
Misery _doesn’t_ love company.


End file.
